Page 80 of Just Like You
“Has Juliet made any announcements yet?”
“No, and it’s pissing me off.”
“She’s your boss, not your bestie.”
“True, but still. It’s annoying. Wrecks all my motivation, not knowing what she’s up to. And you know what? Bash rang me last night. He’s as rattled as me. Not that I let him know that, but I could hear it in his voice.”
“Oh. Tell me.” He sat himself down on the kitchen barstool as I wafted my hands at him.
“Get that uniform off, I’ll get it straight in the wash, and then have a shower. After that, I will tell you all the gossip.”
“You’re as bad as Sonny.” I laughed. “Always offering up the gossip.”
“And you need to have patience. Sonny rang twice yesterday, trying to find out where you were. Said he had so much to tell you and that you weren’t answering your texts.”
“I was flying,” he huffed. “Sonny knows that; he just wants to talk to you. Says you’re much more fun than me.”
“I’m not fun,” I said in protest. I wasn’t. Seriously. Although…maybe. I did actually enjoy Sonny’s frequent phone calls. As much as I enjoyed his unhinged texts.
“You are. You’re actually really entertaining. Which is why I have stayed married to you for over a year.”
“Gosh, that makes me feel so much better about this. You stay married to me because I am entertaining?”
He just laughed, standing there in the middle of the kitchen, removing clothing and dumping it in the laundry basket I was holding out for him.
I should probably get going and be on time for Juliet’s morning meeting. Show her how keen I was to make her all the money. But then? This was fun, much more fun.
“I’m filthy, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I deadpanned.
“Like you want to eat me. You and your tongue are not getting anywhere near me until I have had a good scrub. And there is stuff on my trouser leg that you shouldn’t really touch. I’ll fold them up. Just grab the whole lot and throw it in the wash.”
“Filthy.”
“Always.”
He went off to get showered whilst I emptied his laundry into the washing machine. In our kitchen. A small home, nothing fancy, but it had been bought outright by the two of us, and we had a garden and a manageable commute. For both of us.
And I loved it. Loved everything about the life I was now living. Even when things were difficult and work was draining. Not just mine, but his too. It wasn’t all weeks in the Maldives and glamorous locations. He mostly jetted back and forth on east-coast redeyes or far too long European legs where he’d turn up at midnight, exhausted.
But we also had nice little perks. He sometimes managed to get on my work trips. And then he had trips where I’d jet off over the weekend and join him in hotels on the other side of the world. Take him out for dinner and just…
Get away. Refresh. Remember why we did this in the first place.
Because we fit. Belonged. And the very truth was, we did, actually, make each other happy.
“Better?” I said, as he reappeared in a bathrobe, all freshly showered and wet curls.
“Yeah. Need a few hours, and then I’ll be all good. Have you got plans for dinner tonight?”
“There’s stuff in the freezer. Whatever you want.”
“Any of that chicken left from last week?”
“Yup. Shall I take it out?”
“So domestic,” he teased, as I placed a cup of tea in his hand.
